Disclaimer – I own nothing recognisable. Mithdarion is mine. Nothing from Lord of the Rings or any other fandom I may mention is mine and I make no profit from the writing of my stories.
PALE MOON RISING
Chapter Four – Bilbo's Party
The two wizards continued their easy journey towards Bag End, moving sedately along the dirt road as it wound between hills of emerald green and tiled fields. Soon they reached the low gate with the sign 'No Admittance Except On Party Business'. His face stunning with his eager smile, Mithdarion leapt down from the back of the cart and, pausing briefly to pat Rhair's velvety nose, followed Gandalf up to the round yellow door. Gandalf winked at his son and raised his staff. Three solid knocks later, Bilbo's voice called out with obvious irritation,
"No thank you! We don't want anymore visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations."
"And what about very old friends?" asked Gandalf with his deep voice full of laughter.
The door opened. Bilbo looked up and took in the old, bearded wizard in grey and the younger, elven-smooth wizard in blue hovering behind him, "Gandalf? Mith?"
"Bilbo Baggins." Gandalf said warmly.
"Hello, little one," said Mithdarion, his heart brimming with joy to have Bilbo so real and bright in front of him.
"My dear friends," said Bilbo. Mithdarion held his arms out wide and Bilbo walked right into them, wrapping his own short arms around Mithdarion's hips. They grinned childishly at each other before Bilbo shifted over to bestow a simular hug on Gandalf.
"It's good to see you." The old wizard said. "111 years old, who would believe it." Gandalf released Bilbo and looked at him, his smile fading somewhat as he took in Bilbo's true appearance of agelessness. "You haven't aged a day." Bilbo seemed lost for words and Mithdarion shifted uneasily at the tension as the silence continued longer than it should have.
"Bilbo," he said with deliberate happiness. "Shall we stand on the doorstep all day?"
The hobbit blinked up at him for a moment, then he burst into mildly embarrassed laughter. Mithdarion and Gandalf joined him, the tension melting away with the camaraderie chuckling.
"Oh, Yes! Come on, come in", Bilbo said beckoning the two wizards forward. "Welcome, welcome." Bilbo closed the door behind them and took Gandalf's hat and staff and Mithdarion's staff, leaning them against the wall. The two tall staffs dwarfed the little hobbit sized sticks besides them, almost hitting the ceiling with their tips. Mithdarion had to bow his head to avoid the ceiling beams, his gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. His appearance still startled him, all silver and blue where was once was brown and freckled pink. He only hoped that he became adjusted to this form before his awe drew the wrong kind of attention.
"Would you like tea?" Bilbo asked, chattering on completely ignorant of the younger wizard's distraction. "Or maybe something a little stronger? I've got a few bottles of the old Wineyard left. 1296, very good year, almost as old as I am."
Bilbo laughed and ran to the kitchen, happy to have his old friends with him once more. "It was laid down by my father. Let's say we open one, eh!" Mithdarion glanced at his father and shrugged, so Gandalf called out,
"Just tea, thank you," The old wizard went to stand upright and ended up smacking his head into the chandelier. "Ooh", he exclaimed and raised both hands to set the teetering chandelier straight. He stopped the thing from swinging, then turned around and promptly bumped his head into one of the ceiling beams that Mithdarion was so cautiously avoiding. "Ouch!" He cried. Mithdarion laughed freely at his father's awkwardness in the low house and Gandalf snorted. Then, just to spite Mithdarion's mirth it seemed, he turned and hit his own head upon the next beam over. His father smirked as if to say 'serves you right' and then wandered away into the small kitchen where a fire burned welcomingly in the fireplace.
Bilbo was busy preparing a variety of foods for his friends to enjoy. "I was expecting you both sometime last week!" He said. "Not that it matters, you two come and go as you please. Always have done and always will. I'm surprised that you came together! It's usually one or the other checking up on me. You caught me a bit unprepared, I'm afraid. We've only got cold chicken and bit of a pickle… there's some cheese here, uhn no that won't do. Ah, we've got raspberry jam, an apple tart, you like apple, right Mith? Oh, here's some muffins … "
As Bilbo continued to name enough food and preserves to feed a small army, let alone two wizards, Mithdarion took the liberty of looking at the piles of papers on Bilbo's desk. He picked up the map of Bilbo's first adventure with Gandalf to the Lonely Mountain, tracing his fingers along the fading ink lines.
"So much care," he murmured, thinking of attention to detail the programmers must have to put in to create such perfect intricacies as the faint crease marks on the old map. Gandalf, hearing him and necessarily mistaking his comment said,
"Hmm. Bilbo has treasured the memories of his little adventure." Mithdarion flinched and sternly reminded himself to be more cautious with his off-hand comments. Thinking quickly, he murmured back what seemed like an appropriate response, hoping that he would slip better into character before he could make any serious mistakes. Already he had looked too long into the mirror, and now here he was commenting on something that should not be known to exist.
"It is good that he does so. Such memories make him the unique hobbit he is today."
Moments later, Bilbo wandering back into the hall still chattering, "I can make you some eggs if you like… Mithdarion… Gandalf…?" It seemed to Bilbo that the two wizards had again vanished but he was soon put at ease as Mithdarion's fair face appeared around the doorway to the kitchen.
"Just tea, thank you," Mithdarion repeated his father's earlier words.
"Oh right," Bilbo said, stuffing a piece of bread into his mouth. "You don't mind if I eat?" Mithdarion grinned and resisted the urge to poke Bilbo's bulging cheeks, saying,
"Oh no, not at all." There was a sudden beating at the door and Bilbo darted backwards, pressing himself to the wall in a desperate desire to hide as a penetrating voice yelled,
"Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins!"
"I'm not at home!" Bilbo said nervously, finally parting from the wall to put the tray of food on the table. "It's the Sackville Bagginses. They're after the house! They've never forgiven me for living this long. Oh, I've got to get away from these confounded relatives hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moment's peace! I want to see mountains again, mountains Gandalf! And those great trees, Mith! Branches thick enough for half a dozen elves to stroll across. And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book. Oh, tea."
He grabbed the teapot and poured the tea into three cups. Mithdarion snitched a teaspoon of sugar for his cup, ignoring his father's disapproving glance at the brown crystals.
"So, you mean to go through with your plan then?" Gandalf asked, shaking his head at his son's sweet tooth.
"Yes, yes it's all in hand," Bilbo agreed. "All the arrangements have been made. Oh, thank you." The last was said as Gandalf cleared a place for Bilbo to set down the tea pot.
"Frodo suspects something", Mithdarion said meaningfully.
"Of course he does," assured Bilbo, "he's a Baggins. Not some block-headed Bracegirdle from Hardbottle."
"You will tell him, won't you?" Mithdarion prompted.
"Yes, yes," answered Bilbo hurriedly.
"He's very fond of you," Gandalf added meaningfully.
"I know," answered Bilbo, with sorrow in his voice, "he'd probably come with me if I asked him. But I think in his heart Frodo's still in love with the shire. The woods… the fields… little rivers." For the briefest of moments Mithdarion experienced an intense urge to hug the hobbit, watching as Bilbo struggled to find the right words.
"I'm old, my friends," Bilbo finally said. "I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel… thin… sort of stretched like… butter scraped over too much bread."
Gandalf nodded his head in agreement whilst Mithdarion frowned at where Bilbo was grasping something within his waistcoat pocket. A distant sense of evil touched the fringes of the young wizard's mind and he flinched, amazed that such a non-physical sensation could be so perfectly replicated by a computer program.
Bilbo continued speaking absently, "I need a holiday, a very long holiday. And I don't expect I shall return… In fact, I mean not to."
Dusk fell over the shire, turning the pale blue sky into a wash of deep blue and faint stars. Mithdarion, Gandalf and Bilbo sat upon a hillcrest, watching the party preparations take place below them. Gandalf and Bilbo each held a lit tobacco pipe to their lips as Mithdarion held his pan-pipes to his own. Clear silvery notes danced in the cooling air, sending the pipe-weed smoke into fading spirals.
"Old toby," Bilbo sighed, "the finest weed in the Southfarthing." He took a deep breath on his pipe and sent a perfect ring of smoke floating through the air. Gandalf responded by pursing his lips and sending out a train of smoke interweaved with a light magic that formed it into the shape of a sailing boat. Without a single fault in his playing, Mithdarion aimed his own magic laced breath through his pipes and sent the boat billowing upon misty waves, past the ring and out over the field.
"Ah", Bilbo gasped with delight, "Gandalf, Mithdarion, my old friends… this will be a night to remember."
Fireworks lit up the night sky, sending brilliant showers of red, blue, green and gold bursting into the air. Music added a pleasant tone to the chatter and laughter of the celebrations. Harps and lutes mixed a sweet counter harmony to the flutes and horns. Mithdarion raised his pipes in descant to a lively song, taking a break from the constant attention of the curious hobbits. All night it seemed he had been surrounded by a chattering group of the bouncy little beings. He had danced, looking more than slightly ridiculous, with curly haired hobbit lads and lasses less than half his height. He had eaten far too much and breathed in more pipe-weed just wandering around than he probably would have if he'd been smoking his own pipe.
And yet, Mithdarion couldn't remember a time when he'd ever had more fun. There were other things too, little oddities worked into the Game's environment that only a modern-day person would pick up. Mithdarion found it amusingly like a game, trying to pick out the hints of the real world the programmer Sparky had twisted in peculiar places. A tune being played on a tiny hobbit's lute sounded like the Hamster's 'Thank God I'm A Country Boy'. One of Gandalf's fireworks exploded into the Star Trek Voyager logo. There was even a set of hobbit twins running around, one named Peter and the other named Jackson. Their father's name was Tolkien. Mithdarion had sprayed ale over several nearby revellers when he heard the twin's chubby mother scream out,
"Peter, Jackson! You put down that pig right now or so help me I'll have Tolkien spank you!"
As the bouncy song ended, Mithdarion bowed at the waist to the hobbit musicians and rose from his seat on the edge of the low platform. He tucked his pipes into a pocket and snagged a pear from a passing tray. Biting with inexplicable happiness into the juicy fruit, the wizard wandered through the crowd, taking in all manner of intricate elements of the thriving party. At one table Mithdarion watched Frodo shout,
"Oh no, you don't!" as he caught the back of Sam's tunic and threw him against a dancing Rosie. Frodo laughed childishly and, catching Mithdarion watching him, winked in a very roguish manner. Mithdarion just laughed back and continued on his wanderings. He wandered past his father just as Gandalf ignited another one of his fireworks, sending spears of light out over the entire field of partygoers. He wandered past Bilbo sitting surrounded by children, telling them of one of his adventures
"So, there I was, at the mercy of three, monstrous trolls and they were all arguing amongst themselves about how they were going to cook us. Whether it be turned on a spit, or whether they should sit on us one by one and squash us into jelly!"
One of the children gasped and Mithdarion felt his heart constrict briefly at the sheer cuteness of wide-eyed hobbit children.
"Well, and they spent so much time arguing about the whithertos and the whyfores," Bilbo continued, "that when the sun's first light crept up over the top of the trees and Poof! It turned them all to stone."
Mithdarion smiled indulgently and moved on, pausing as he saw two shadows edge out from behind one of the tents and make their way towards the wagon stacked with fireworks. He grinned in the strange light of lanterns and fireworks, his pale face weird and wonderful in the shifting colours.
"Quick," one of the shadows said to the other as he gave his friend a boost into the wagon.
Mithdarion placed his hand over his mouth to muffle the soft snorts of laughter threatening to escape, easing back into the shadows to ensure his presence didn't interrupt the hobbit's activities. He watched the shadow that must be Pippin scramble through the tubes of fireworks as Merry whispered,
"No, no! The big one, big one!" Pippin grabbed the largest firework he could find, bright red and curved in the shape of a bowed dragons' head. Merry glanced around nervously but his eyes could not see Mithdarion in darkness when the wizard was deliberately hiding his presence. The hobbits hustled the firework inside one of the tents and set to lighting the wick.
"Done!" Pippin exclaimed proudly, passing the firework to Merry, who immediately passed it back, shouting,
"You're supposed to stick it in the ground!"
"It is in the ground!" Pippin shouted back.
"Outside!"
"This was your idea!"
They were so busy passing the firework back and forth that neither of them noticed Mithdarion chuckling to himself beside the tent-flap. There was a burst of sulphur and the firework exploded, taking the entire tent zooming up with it.
Outside everyone cheered in thrilled amazement at the sight of the firework rising, tent and all, into the sky. It exploded in a burst of red and gold, changing into the form of a dragon. The hobbit's awed expressions turned into panic as the dragon dived into the crowd. Mithdarion stood and grinned, watching as the entire field of hobbits scattered in fear, running blindly and falling over themselves trying to get away from the fiery vision of wings and teeth. The dragon soared through the air, whirling and finally dissolving into ribbons of sparkles over the lake. The hobbits burst into relieved cheers and Mithdarion laughed out loud.
Merry and Pippin, ashes all over their faces beamed at their handiwork.
"That was good!" Merry said proudly.
"Let's get another one!" Pippin suggested. Mithdarion recovered his decorum enough to stride forward and yank on the hobbit's little ears, thoroughly enjoying playing the big-mean-wizard.
"Ahh!" the troublemakers yelled in surprise and pain.
"Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. I might have known," Mithdarion said, pleased to have another piece of cannon in his name. The wizard dragged the two hobbits by their ears over to where Gandalf was standing, hands firmly on hips and a scowl on his face.
Merry and Pippin's punishment for their theft and foolish use of explosive objects was to wash the piles of dishes left from hundreds of feasting hobbits. Gandalf kept a close watch over the troublemakers whilst Mithdarion leant casually against a table, eagerly awaiting Bilbo's birthday speech.
"Speech!" hundreds of hobbits called out, banging tankards against tables. They clapped as Bilbo took to the low stage and grinning out over the crowd.
"My dear Bagginses and Boffins!" said Bilbo, pausing after ever name as cheers burst out across the field. "Tooks and Brandybucks! … Grubbs! … Chubbs! … Hornblowers! … Bolgers! … Bracegirdles! … And Proudfoots!"
"Proudfeet!" called out a lounging hobbit, wriggling his toes. The crowd laughed and Bilbo sighed in mirth before continuing with his speech, "today is my 111th birthday!"
"Happy birthday!" the crowd cheered.
"Happy birthday!" Mithdarion echoed, the light atmosphere causing him to smile non-stop. Faint dimples appeared upon his cheeks as Bilbo went on,
"Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits! I don't know half of you half as well as I should like. And I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."
The crowd was silent as they went back over Bilbo's words. They didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. Gandalf however smiled and Mithdarion chuckled and tossed back his hair, the bright flash of molten silver drawing thoughtful glances from the nearby hobbit lasses.
Bilbo continued, his voice quietening and loosing his previous enthusiasm. "I…" he started as his fingers delved into his pocket and drew out the ring, hiding it behind his back. Mithdarion's smile faded. "I have things to do…I've put this off for far too long," Bilbo muttered more to himself than to his audience. The crowd waited.
"I regret to announce, this is the end! I'm going now, I bid you all a very fond farewell…" Bilbo stared out at Frodo and smiled sadly. "Goodbye."
Bilbo vanished.
The hobbits all gasped and Mithdarion turned in time to see a horrified look spread over his father's face.
"Damn," Mithdarion muttered, darting away from the packed tables and hurrying to the path leading up towards Bag End.
Trailing in Bilbo's wake, watching the little footprints appear in the mud, Mithdarion followed the invisible hobbit, eager for the next part of his Game to begin.
A/N: I apologise for the delay in posting. I've found the bit between the beginning and the fellowship difficult to write. But hey, onto the next chapter! Mithdarion uses the Time Jump Drive for the first time. He goes forward seventeen years to Rivendell, but the landing is rough and something in the pendant breaks.
